George sat in a closed room.
He did not look as calm as before.
His shirt was neat. His hair was still set properly. But his eyes had changed. There was a restless look in them now, the kind that came when a man had been pushed too many times and still did not know where the attack was coming from.
Two men stood in front of him. One of them placed a file on the table.
"We checked what you asked us to check," the man said.
George looked at him.
"Speak."
The man opened the file.
"The person who called you is still hidden. We tried to follow the description and the route you gave us, but we found nothing solid."
George's fingers tightened on the arm of the chair.
He had expected at least a name.
Even a false name would have been something. Even a direction would have been enough for him to start crushing people until one of them spoke.
But nothing solid meant he was still standing in fog.
